


little black dress

by undercoversmoak



Category: Arrow - Fandom
Genre: 1x04, AU, F/M, One Shot, Smut adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercoversmoak/pseuds/undercoversmoak
Summary: The Flash 1x04 AU. Felicity’s trip to Central City gets cut short by Team Arrow business, leading to Oliver seeing her in *that* dress.
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Comments: 31
Kudos: 217





	little black dress

**Author's Note:**

> This has been floating around my head for awhile, because it is absolutely criminal that Felicity’s sexiest dress was wasted on BARRY ALLEN.  
> Kudos & comments appreciated :) thanks for reading!

She doesn’t intend to wear the dress for more than a few hours.

Wait, that sounds bad.

It’s not that she intends to take it off for any specific purpose —or for any specific _person_ — but she definitely doesn’t think this trivia night that Barry invited her to will go longer than a few hours and then she can go home and take this sexy monstrosity off.

Alone. She’ll go home… alone.

Is this skimpy black dress that leaves little of her legs to the imagination a little overkill for a trivia maybe-date with Barry? Probably. But after being put on indefinite pause by Oliver and having her heart crushed like red pepper for what feels like the hundredth time by this infuriating and infuriatingly handsome man, she’s ready to feel good about herself. She deserves to, dammit.

And if getting that slacked jaw, cartoon eyed expression from Barry when she walked into Jitters was how she does it, then so be it.

And if a little wave of longing hits her when she remembers how she had planned to wear this on her third date with Oliver, she ignores it.

The trivia night with Barry turns out to be just the distraction she needed. Eddie and Iris are friendly enough, and it calms whatever guilt she was feeling about using an almost-date with Barry to feel better after her almost-date with Oliver when she sees how Barry watches Iris from across the table.

Takes one to know one.

She’s really starting to enjoy herself and forget all about Oliver when Dig’s phone call puts an abrupt end to her night.

She gives a vague excuse about a family emergency to Eddie and Iris, before hugging Barry and giving him a meaningful but apologetic look. She knows he can see exactly what kind of “emergency” this is.

When she hops off the train in Starling City a few hours later, she hightails it for the foundry. She would have completely forgotten she’s still in _the dress_ if she didn’t catch her reflection in a store window.

Well, this is ironic.

______________________

Oliver specifically asked Dig not to call her — in fact, if he didn’t still have a little pride left to protect he might have even called it “begged”.

Still, after a whole night of striking out and narrowly escaping death because Dig keeps missing the traffic cams and barely keeps Oliver from plowing right into a garbage truck -- twice -- he begrudgingly agrees that Felicity’s assistance is needed.

“We can’t ask her to come home, John.” He’s on his Ducati, weaving in and out of traffic like his mind isn’t a million miles away - in Central City, to be exact.

“Why not? We need her. You know I can’t run these computers like her.”

“She told us she was spending the weekend in Central City.” _Visiting Barry_ , he adds ruefully.

“Yeah, and is she there for business or pleasure?” Dig ribs him. “Because if it’s business then she should stay. But if she’s just there to visit Barry, that would constitute as pleasure to me. So is she there for business or pleasure, Oliver?”

Oliver grumbles, his foot hitting the gas pedal with renewed vigor.

“Just call her.”

He doesn’t click off his comm fast enough to avoid hearing Dig’s snicker.

__________________________

  
  


“John, when I asked you both if going to Central City for the weekend was going to be any sort of inconvenience for the team and you _both_ said no, this is exactly the kind of situation I was trying to _avoid.”_

She doesn’t so much as spare a glance in John’s direction as she types, no doubt trying to undo whatever tech-simpleton havoc he wreaked on her computers.

“I’m sorry Felicity, I thought I knew our systems better. Guess I’ll need more practice.”

“Yeah, no doubt.”

The sound of her typing furiously fills the bunker for several minutes, and Dig takes this time to fully digest _what_ she’s wearing. Dig has always seen Felicity like the little sister he never had, so he would never call her _sexy,_ but he’s also a warm-blooded adult male and he can recognize that this is a sexy dress. A dress a woman would wear on a date. He had just been teasing Oliver earlier, but maybe he really did interrupt something—

“Oliver, I’m here.”

Dig doesn’t need the comm in his ear to hear Oliver’s sigh of relief at the sound of her voice. Given how tense Oliver had been since Felicity had hopped on that train to Central City last night, he expects some sort of heartfelt expression of gratitude or something that will tell Felicity exactly how much he needed her here—

“Copy.”

Oh right, this is _Oliver_ he’s talking about. Master of communication.

They work in relative silence for the remainder of the night — Felicity is clearly unhappy about being called back home and Oliver is clearly uncomfortable about having asked her to. When their mission is over, Oliver tells them he’ll be back in 10 minutes. He watches Felicity momentarily freeze before continuing to type and he wonders if she’s debating waiting around for Oliver or going home.

Really, it depends on how much she wants to give him a piece of her mind.

And how much she wants him to see her in _that_ dress.

Dig weighs his options; stay to mediate in case things get too heated or leave for the exact same reason.

When Oliver walks in, looking more sheepish and apologetic than revved up for an argument, Dig takes it as a positive sign and goes home for the night.

“Good luck,” he says as he walks towards the stairs. He doesn’t know who needs it more.

__________________

“Thank you for coming.” Oliver sets his bow down on the table tentatively, waiting for Felicity to turn to face him.

“This team is still my priority,” she says, somewhat curtly.

He can’t blame her. He gave her the green light to go -- it was considerate of her to even _ask_ \-- and they still couldn’t make it one night without her. They interrupted her plans -- whatever plans she had, probably with Barry.

He’s tired of letting her down. He’s tired of disappointing her. He’s just… tired.

“I know. Still… thank you.”

She must hear the sincerity in his tone because she turns to face him, a softer look on her face than what her tone would’ve indicated.

“It’s okay.”

She stands up and that's when Oliver realizes he’d been transfixed on her face the entire time -- she’s wearing more make-up than usual, her lips a pretty pink -- that he didn’t notice her dress.

Because… wow. _Her. Dress._

She walks over to him slowly and Oliver tries very hard to not watch her legs as she moves. He forces his eyes upward but dammit -- there are _cut-outs_ on her stomach that are even worse so he moves his eyes to her chest but the dress comes down in a deep-V that shows a gracious amount of cleavage and _god_ , there’s even cut-outs on top showing her bare shoulders that he definitely isn’t thinking about kissing because that would -- that would ---

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?” He says, crashing his derailing train of thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

“I said….” she eyes him curiously, “Do I get a raise for coming into work on my day off?”

It takes a second for her words to register -- a joke -- and he sputters before breathing a laugh. “I’m currently too broke to give raises at the moment.”

She nods, “Ah. Right.”

“You look… nice.”

“Thank you,” she says, just as uncertainly as he gave the compliment.

“Were you…” The words feel choked on his tongue. “Were you having a nice time?”

He’s playing it safe, but the unasked question does not go unnoticed by her. _Were you having a nice time with Barry?_

“It was fine. We were at a trivia night, actually. Barry and I killed it -- our group name was E=MC Hammer.” Off Oliver’s confused look, she adds, “It’s a play on words. A nerd joke.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Barry and you have a lot in common.”

She shrugs. “I guess so.”

It’s not like it’s brand new information, she knew as much the first time he came to Starling. But just like the first time he came to Starling, it doesn’t change much. Their brains might be in sync but their hearts are somewhere else.

“He’s still trying to adjust to… all of _that_ ,” She moves her fingers and makes a _whooshing_ sound, as if Oliver wouldn’t be able to deduct what she meant on his own.

He grins, a little bit of nervous tension leaving the room as he does. “It’s a lot to adjust to. He’s lucky to have someone like you in his life.”

She notices the way he purposely avoids the word “friend” and decides, even though them not being together is entirely because of Oliver’s self-sabotaging choices, she’ll put him out of his misery. Just this once.

“Yeah. And it doesn’t make it any easier that the woman he’s clearly pining for is dating someone else.”

That catches him off-guard. “Who?”

“His best friend Iris. I mean, he didn’t get the chance to _say_ anything to me -- not that he necessarily would -- but it wasn’t a hard thing to figure out after watching them interact for hours. Heart-eyes city.”

He looks down and Felicity can tell he’s trying to conceal his relief. He has no right to feel relieved, and she has no obligation to make him feel so, but she does and he is.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not, and they both know it.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t going down there for that anyway. Contrary to what this dress might say…” She laughs -- at herself, at the fact that she and Barry are so alike in more ways than one, at the fact that the man she was trying to distract herself from by wearing this dress is now standing in front of her, staring at her like she’s Niagara in a drought.

“It’s an amazing dress.”

She pauses, not expecting such a passionate response. “Thanks. Although, in hindsight, it was probably a little too much for trivia night at a coffee house…”

“You look incredible.” His voice is low, sincere. Her mouth suddenly feels dry.

Oliver’s never complimented her appearance before, not really. It’s not insecurity -- she can tell by the way he looks at her he's attracted to her, and by the way he touches her that he wants her.

But still. It feels good to hear.

“Thank you. I had planned to wear this… um… somewhere else,” she finishes lamely. So much for getting rid of the nervous tension.

“Where? With me?” Oliver is holding nothing back, and she feels herself wither slightly under the intensity of his eyes. There’s still an undercurrent of tension but it’s far from awkward.

She licks her lips. “Yeah. On our third date.”

“Third?” His lips creak at that. “Why the third?”

“Well… I mean maybe it was presumptive of me to expect a third date before even going on our first but I… I figured this would be too much for a second date. And the third date is…”

“The third date is…?”

“The sex date.”

He startles at that, her words shocking herself as much as they shock him. Where did that come from? What is _wrong_ with her? Oliver made it perfectly clear in that hospital hallway that he can’t be with her, he doesn’t plan to be, if she plays with fire she’s going to get burned--

“Oh Felicity… there’s no way I would’ve been able to wait until our third date.”

His eyes darken and it’s like all the air in the room has been sucked out. They’re playing a delicate game -- a game of cards, one wrong play could destroy the careful balance they’ve established. It could be over before it began. And yet...

“Oh yeah? I assumed I would have to talk you into it. That’d you’d be far too chivalrous to initiate anything other than a peck…”

He grins, shaking his head. “Felicity, if our first date had ended the way I wanted it to…” He blows out a breath, debating on whether or not to move the game forward. One wrong move and it’s all over. “We wouldn’t have left your apartment the whole weekend.”

She gasps, part surprise and part excitement.

“So what you’re saying is…” She takes a step forward, playing the last of her deck. “I really didn’t need this dress at all to seduce you.”

She’s close enough to hear his sharp intake of breath and catch the nano-second glance at her cleavage.

“Se-seduce…” he echos, eyes glazed over like he’s in a trance. And okay… maybe Felicity feels a bit smug. Now he knows how she feels every time she was forced to watch him do the salmon ladder.

He gulps, eyes boring into hers with a different intensity -- this one isn’t so much heat as it is emotion. “You never need anything to get my attention. It’s just you.”

And she doesn’t know how he does it-- how he can open her up until all the unfiltered passion pours out and fill her up again with this raw vulnerability. How he can make her feel scalding hot and then comfortably warm in a matter of seconds.

“Oliver…”

They’re so close that she feels him lean in before she sees it and then his lips are on hers. Warm, sweet, inviting. She opens her mouth to him, deepening the kiss.

She’d fantasized about a moment like this a million times -- the two of them overtaken by lust, Oliver taking her roughly in the foundry while monitors and plants are knocked haphazardly to the ground in the tornado that is their passion.

This moment, though, is nothing like that. It’s better.

His lips are soft but his kisses are harsh; a perfect tightrope walk. His hands move from her face slowly to her shoulders, gently caressing the bare skin her dress leaves before encircling her waist. She feels his rough fingers as they brush across her abdomen, like gasoline on a wildfire.

His tongue untangles from hers -- _wait what is he --_ and slowly moves down the slope of her neck until he reaches -- _oh._

How did he even know that spot on her neck is a _thing_ for her? How does he know exactly how to turn her on without even trying?

Oliver laughs into her throat -- “I’m a quick study.”

She can’t even bring herself to feel embarrassed about babbling during a hot make out sesh. Especially not when Oliver groans as she grabs the back of his head to keep him steady, to keep him _right there…_

She moans his name and that must be a trigger for him because suddenly his arms move lower, grabbing her bare thighs to pick her up. There’s not much wiggle room in a dress this tight and it certainly isn’t designed for _physical activities._ It bunches up at her waist, putting her lace thong on full display if Oliver stopped kissing her long enough to peak down.

He doesn’t, not until she feels the cool metal of her workstation against her thighs, and he pauses briefly to adjust her so she’s sitting on the table. They stop to take each other in -- breathing ragged, lips swollen and Felicity sees the same desire in Oliver’s eyes that she feels humming through her entire body. She belatedly realizes Oliver is still in his Arrow suit, a look that makes her want to laugh from the absurdity and groan because… _hot._

His eyes travel from her lips down her body and he sucks in a breath when he sees much of her lower body is now exposed. His hands are red hot when they inch up her thighs, caressing the skin before touching between her legs.

Whatever breath was still trapped in her lungs is brutally sucked out. _Is this really happening…_

_“Felicity…”_

_“Oliver,_ ” she gasps. Begs. “Please.”

He curses under his breath and then his hands are exactly where she wants them to be and she sees stars.

Her eyes are squeezed shut so she can’t see the expression on his face, but judging by his harsh breaths he’s just on edge as she is. She wants to watch him -- see him in this new way, like he’s seeing her but she can’t. She feels like her body is a live wire, fritzing like one of her computers.

“Oh _god,_ ” she chokes out, his name echoing like a prayer through the empty bunker as she hits her peak.

They are just as perfect together as she had hoped they’d be, like pieces of a puzzle--- where she pushes, he pulls; where she rushes, he takes his time.

Their lips meet in a lingering kiss that slowly burns hotter. She removes her hands from where they’d been wrapped around his neck to slide over his shoulders, his leather-clad chest. When she reaches the zipper of his pants, he moves his hands to cover hers.

“We can’t,” he says.

His words hit her like a freight truck.

“What?” she asks incredulously.

“I just… this isn’t the way it’s supposed to go.”

Whatever fog was still layering her brain, making her think that maybe she misheard him and this was some big misunderstanding evaporated in an instant and all that was left was the cold feeling of rejection.

Of course Oliver would do this to her. Of _course._ Typical Oliver -- show her how good something can be just to snatch it away.

“Are you kidding me?”

Oliver, in his defense, looks just as confused as she does. “What?”

“You’re going to suddenly have an Oliver Queen meltdown _now?_ After your fingers were just buried inside of me 30 seconds ago?”

He at least has the decency to look ashamed. He cheeks even pink slightly at her crudeness.

“I-- Felicity--”

“No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear another excuse about why you can’t be with someone or why you don’t deserve to be happy”

“Felicity--”

“What, Oliver?” She asks sharply. And who can really blame her? She pictured a lot of different ways she and Oliver’s first time may happen but she never pictured him fleeing the scene of the crime before a crime has technically even been committed.

It stings.

“You deserve more, Felicity.”

That brings tears to her eyes, both heartbreak and rage. Because how _dare_ he think he can decide what she deserves? And how could he _ever_ think he’s not enough?

“I decide what I deserve, Oliver. And I deserve _you._ I want _you_.”

She studies him and lets him study her -- lets him see all her cracks and bruises and scars. It’s terrifying, but also invigorating.

He stares at her, pain written all over his face like it’s his autobiography (really, it is) but doesn’t move. She huffs a tearful laugh.

“Move, please.” She gently pushes him away enough for her to gather her bearings, pulling her dress down to cover her panties and finding her balance on shaky legs. She moves past him, leaving him frozen in place.

“Wait.”

She shouldn’t give him another chance, she shouldn’t.

She turns around, waiting.

“I’m scared.” He breathes deeply, like the words are both freeing and strangling him.

“I’m scared to lose you, to let you in and lose you.”

He turns, and his face knocks the breath out of her. They’ve faced countless monsters together, and she’s seen Oliver at the end of his rope many times. But this — this is different. This is him floating alone in the ocean, helpless and deserted, begging for help he doesn’t know how to ask for.

“Oliver, we both lead a dangerous life. I was in this with you before and I’m still with you now.”

“I know. I know. It’s not that. I’m scared that… that the life I lead will get you hurt, yes.” He pauses, licking his lips. “But even more than that…. I’m scared that the more you see of me, it’ll scare you away.”

She shakes her head about to protest but he cuts her off. “I just— listen. I’ve been thinking a lot about choices I’ve made, during those five years I was gone specifically. And the more I think about it….” He stops, getting lost in his thoughts for a moment, in another time that Felicity can’t follow him to.

“I’m not sure I’m a good person, Felicity. I’m not sure if I’m good when I take this hood off. And I’m afraid if I take this mask off, if I live my life as Oliver Queen… I won’t like what I find.”

Her heart cracks, splinters open from bottom to top. She doesn’t know what to say. This was definitely not the conversation she was expecting to have tonight when she put on this damn dress, that’s for sure.

“Do you know the moment I realized you were a good person?” She asks.

He shakes his head. “I mean, I obviously had some sort of faith in you the first time you showed up in my office with that bullet-ridden laptop and those awful excuses. I could sense that you weren’t… unworthy. But the moment I really, truly knew you were someone I could trust, someone I could put my faith into was the night I brought you your father's notebook. You remember?”

It’s a rhetorical question; of course he does. He nods, his throat feeling like sandpaper. “Yeah.”

“That was our first honest conversation. You weren’t hiding behind a facade. And even though I didn’t know you were the Arrow then, something about you just… clicked, for me. I was hooked,” she chuckles at the memory of herself, so baby-faced and starry eyed for this handsome stranger, unsuspecting of the world she was about to delve into.

“It’s not just all the good you’ve done for the city as the Arrow that tells me you’re a good person, Oliver. And it’s not just your actions as Oliver Queen either it’s… it’s all of it. Because they’re not two separate people.”

She moves closer to him, her hands coming to rest on his chest before moving up to his face like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“You are Oliver Queen, currently jobless billionaire,” his lips twitch, which makes her smile. “And you are the Arrow, this city’s hero. One is not better than the other because they’re both _you._ And you are… you amaze me, Oliver. Every day.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, and there are several long moments of silence. Hopefully he is taking her words to heart, letting them fix the painful parts inside of him like an herbal remedy.

When he opens his eyes, there’s still an ache there but also determination. Fire.

“I love you, Felicity.”

It’s… okay. Wow.

Her stomach feels like a tidal wave. She had known his feelings were strong, sure, since that night in the hospital but hearing it laid out so plainly and clearly is making rainbows and butterflies give birth in her stomach—

“I love you and… I know I’ve done a lot of this all wrong. And a lot of my choices have been… poor, lately.” He rolls his eyes at himself, a smile playing on his lips. “But I want to do better. I want to be the guy you see when you look at me.”

Felicity smiles, tears blurring her vision.

“If you’ll let me, Felicity, please. Can I…” He clears his throat, nervous all over again. “Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow? A second date.”

Felicity laughs, joy and disbelief and a little bit of residual bitterness because _wow, he really is a slow learner_ — before she answers.

“Yes. And no.”

Oliver tenses as he encircles her waist, bringing her closer. “What?”

“Yes to the date. Yes to… all of that. But no to dinner.”

He relaxes, dipping down until their mouths are centimeters apart. “How come?”

Their lips are so close now, breathing in each other’s air.

“Because I’m pretty sure it’ll be breakfast,” she says before kissing him deeply.

———————

Felicity ends up being right.

Their second date _is_ breakfast — if you can even call it that, it is more of a late brunch by the time they drag themselves out of Oliver’s bed in the bunker (another decision Felicity ended up being right about, she reminds him) and meander over to Felicity’s apartment to order in.

They swap stories and cuddle over pancakes and french toast and Oliver cannot remember a time when he felt this lucky.

Although, as Oliver will dutifully remind her several times, there is _one_ thing he was right about from the start.

After their first date, they don’t leave Felicity’s apartment the whole weekend.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
